


Unwritten Deux

by Lady_sb



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst and Feels, Drama, F/M, M/M, One eye on the future, Past Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_sb/pseuds/Lady_sb
Summary: In 2015, Rafael Barba gets a letter in the post bearing the date 2008, containing a declaration of feelings from an eager blue-eyed cop.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43
Collections: Barisi Pride 2020





	Unwritten Deux

**Author's Note:**

> Hello wonderful people! This is my first contribution for the Barisi Fiction Archive: Pride Month challenge. My prompts were #Yellow and #Love at first sight. 
> 
> This fic is actually a reworking of an old fic of mine, but it is very different from what I have written before, which is probably why I have a massive soft spot for it. My fics are always a way for me to process emotions and after a certain video, I wanted to sort of brush this one off and tailor it for Barisi. 
> 
> Plus the pairing is always awesome <3
> 
> Comments/kudos are so much love.

***

_All of the things that I wish I could tell you_  
_Every time when you're passing me by_  
_I fall in love, there's something about you_  
_I wish you were mine_

***

I got a letter today. 

The fact that I got anything in the post besides bills was already a surprise. Who writes letters these days? Not when you can just turn to your side, pick up your phone and contact someone immediately. Even if you loved the written word, there is just so little time left at the end of the day to even think about picking up a pen. 

And yet there it was, a simple square of cream that stood out amongst the more sterile white rectangles that signified the need to take financial responsibility. Pieces of paper that told me my mortgage was due and credit card statements accusing me of having spent too much on my last suit. 

Picking the letter up and tossing the rest of the mail on the table, I ran a thoughtful finger over the slightly crumpled corners, the deep wrinkles in the paper and the slightly faded ink telling me its age. In the light, I realised that my earlier assessment had been wrong, and that the paper was actually closer to pale buttercup yellow. 

Falling back on my couch, I ran a finger under the flap, breaking the seal in a series of sticky snaps until I could get to the piece of paper nestled within. When I opened it, while the sprawling handwriting at first was unfamiliar to me, what caught my attention first and took me aback was the date in the corner. 

_July 5, 2008_

Today’s date is July 8, 2015.

It was only then I skipped to the end to see who the sender was. There, in his habitually messy script, was Carisi’s signature. I had seen it enough to recognise it, in all its iterations.

Flourished loops signifying his excitement at cracking a case in his reports, the letters cramped like townhouses when he was in a hurry. Or most tellingly, flat and blocky when he felt like he had failed. 

To say that it was totally unexpected would have been a lie, only Carisi the eternal optimist would have thought about sending this folded time capsule. 

Yet, I wondered, what was it that he had to say that needed to wait seven years?

 _Dear Rafael Barba,_

_I honestly don’t know who would be more surprised at this point. You, at the fact that you got a letter from me when the writing is already on the wall that this method of communication is pretty much obsolete, or the fact that I have the guts to write this at all._

_But I figured that if I didn't hold on to that little bit of courage, that little bit of what I am feeling at this moment, I probably would never tell you._

_Is it too cheesy? Is it too stupid to say that I was attracted to you from the very beginning? Even without the benefit of hindsight, I already know it’s fucking dumb. In real life, where do feelings such as this occur outside of overwrought romance books and the diaries of teenage girls?_

_Yet I can’t really stop liking you. Even though you probably barely remember me. A rookie cop in uniform who had to escort you for a week down the steps of the courthouse after a particularly tense trial._

_We talked a little, you and me about future plans, if just to pass the time. About how we were both eyeing transfers to Manhattan. How we felt that SVU was the way to go. I even got to mention that I was thinking of taking up law school at night._

_Even with the barebone glimpses you allow me, I see something in you that I know will just pull me in deeper._

_Don't ask me to explain it though. I’ve always felt that feelings become hollow when you try to put words to them, so this is the best way I can think of describing it._

_Something._

_Then why seven years?_

_Because, I want my career to be a success, and the last thing I want to do is fuck it up just because of what could just be a crush. Even for someone like you who I kinda already know is worth the sacrifice. So I figured that seven years would probably be a safe-enough buffer._

_It’s always the hardest at the beginning, so by this time, I figured we would most likely be at a more stable position in our lives. Career-wise at least._

_And who knows, by this time, maybe I would have built up the courage to seek you out. Maybe we’ve even already hooked up. God knows, I’ve never been good at keeping my feelings to myself._

_If we have, then use this letter as a reminder for when the feelings between us wane. And I know they will, because maintaining a relationship in this life we both have chosen might as well be a game of Russian roulette._

_If we aren’t, and I’m available, then consider this letter a sort of nudge for us to maybe explore something. No pressure though._

_If I’m not, please disregard this letter as the fancy of a young boy who just didn’t have the balls to tell you how he felt seven years ago._

_Unless, of course you feel that I am worth fighting for. Don’t laugh at me though, a guy can always hope, can’t he? And hey, I am not that bad of a catch I think, even though you pointedly made fun of my accent._

_Now, I’m just babbling and my hand hurts, shit._

_Yours,_

_Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr._

My hands were steady as I folded the letter back and neatly tucked it into the envelope before reaching for my glass of Macallan. I trembled slightly though when the ice cubes shifted, but that was probably due to the stiffness in my knuckles, the result of too many years being crooked around a Tibaldi pen. 

I took a deep breath and exhaled, Scotch fingers tugging and working to unfurl the knots in my mind. 

We had hooked up of course, several times since he had joined SVU, but it had always been casual and usually accompanied by massive amounts of alcohol. The first time had taken place about three months after he had shown up at Liv’s office, looking like a cliche of an old-school gumshoe, smelling of sweet almond flour and butter. 

We had been celebrating a case, and the whole squad had been there. Yet it was Carisi, freshly shaved and gel-slicked, which I had ended up bringing home. We had both been so hammered that it was all we could do was go back to his apartment that was in walking distance from where the bar was. 

Was that the reason? Or was it simply a pretense? I wondered, even now. 

To be honest, I don't really remember much about that night, even in the immediate days that followed. I could only recall fragments, shrouded in white curls of smoke. 

Sonny’s silver brown hair, startling against the back of my hand, the silky strands making a woven pattern with my fingers. His nipples, hard and salty against the surface of my tongue. That voice in my ear, whispering that this was the first time he had ever been with a man. 

His sloppy hand job as he tried to jerk me off, which just hurt where fingers pinched me. The hot and cold contrast of his cock with its wet tip pressing into my stomach. The tight clench of my body around his cock as he forced deeper inside me and came too soon. 

All perfect ingredients for a one night stand. 

Yet the next morning when we had woken with sandpapered vocal chords, there was no awkwardness between us. No regret, or a need to bolt with a handful of hastily gathered clothes. 

Just Sonny’s easy morning smile and offer of coffee. 

We soon fell into a kind of holding pattern, sharing a handful nights over the course of the few months. We both got into relationships with other people during that time, which kept us from tumbling into each other’s bed for months, or even years, at a time. 

But when the relationships ended, badly or not, it was just a matter of time before one of us would be knocking on the other’s door. With us it had always been simple, uncomplicated. 

However, there were times when Carisi had this look in his eye. He tried his hardest to camouflage the flicker behind a glaze of desire, sometimes succeeding, but sometimes not. 

It made me feel a certain way, but the exact name always eluded me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't put my finger on it. 

Carisi had said it best really. 

_Something._

“Did you say something Barba?” 

I looked up to find Carisi looking at me quizzically from across my desk. It was the next day and we had just finished going over his case notes. It was just us in my office today, as the rest of the squad was scattered to five corners of Manhattan. 

I didn't even realise that I had been mumbling to myself. Instinctively I clasped my hand over my pocket and heard, rather than felt, the rustling of paper. Truth be told, I could have left well alone. Carisi gave no indication that he was expecting me to say anything except go home and see you later. 

But I didn't because I knew, I wanted to know, whether anything had changed. 

So wordlessly, I stood up and pulled the letter out of my pocket. Carisi startled a little as I lay the envelope flat on the palm of my hand. 

A guarded “Oh” was all he said. 

“I got your letter yesterday,” I said. “What in heaven’s name possessed you to write it? To someone who was a complete stranger to you at that point?”

Sonny gave a small shrug of his shoulders before turning away to put files away in his battered backpack. 

“I got the idea from this story I read in the paper. About how in an effort to curb divorce rates in China, the government asked newly married couples to write each other letters to be delivered seven years later.”

Carisi laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head in a manner that I had always found endearing. He must have recently just gotten a haircut I realised, the skin bare with his silver hair baby fine against the nape of his neck. 

“I guess, it was a way of reminding them why they got married in the first place. To bring up memories long forgotten once reality set in, to rekindle the love they once felt,” Carisi finished softly. 

“You must have gotten some weird looks at the post office then,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood, although it had not gone unnoticed by me that he hadn’t really answered my question. 

Sonny didn't answer but instead stuffed his hands down his pockets, his chin firmly down as he stared at the floor. 

“I definitely caused them quite a bit of trouble,” Carisi said with a dry chuckle. “I had to keep going back every time you moved office. The last time was three years ago, so after that I pretty much forgot about it.”

“Did you forget what you had written?” I tested the waters, wondering how deep the drop could be. 

An almost imperceptible shake of the head as Carsi straightened up and looked past me out my window. 

“Hardly. What you have there is probably the tenth incarnation of my original letter.”

It was then I knew that Carisi wasn't going to answer my question, at least not directly. He wasn't the same bashful boy he was back then, with his feelings perched at the tip of his tongue. 

Maybe it was my turn to make my feelings clear. 

“I think that, sometimes, we all need a nudge,” I said quietly. 

I saw Sonny’s slender shoulders stiffen, but as he slowly turned to face me, I saw his lips curved in that charmingly dimpled grin of his. 

“You never even asked if I was available,” Sonny said, the teasing light in his tone. 

Instead of answering, I just stepped closer and brushed my lips against his. 

***

Where did it all start to go wrong? 

Sonny and I lasted three years, which for both of us was some kind of record. We had our share of good and bad times, but I can truthfully say that I never had a relationship with that much passion before. 

There were nights of pure, unabashed fucking, where my fingers would hurt from holding on to the headboard of my bed as I nailed him as hard as I could. My body trembled as he rogered him like some kind of animal, causing me to hiss between my teeth and gouge bloody lines down his forearms. 

But there were also nights that we would spend hours just making love. He would kiss my cock and I would suck his, deep down my throat, hungrily swallowing his cum. He would manipulate my body with his long fingers, brushing my balls with his knuckles. 

He would open his legs and I would settle between them, my cock as deep in as it would go. He would whisper my name in my ear as he moved, fast, then slow, so that our climaxes wouldn't be too soon. Every breath I took in was like a pick-axe to my chest, as his words dampened my skin. 

I thought nothing of licking the pearlescent streaks dripping from his asshole, while he didn't hesitate from cleaning my cock with his tongue after. He would rub his nose into the crook of my arm and rub himself against my thigh until he came, and I would happily run my fingers through his semen and anoint his brow and our lips.

But I couldn't honestly, with hand over heart, say that our relationship was entirely healthy.

Working together is both a blessing and curse. While you saw a lot of your partner, it also gave you no safe haven to run to when the situation turned explosive. 

Caris was the master at softball guilt, while I could just dig my heels in and not relent for days. We knew each other so well that it became way too easy to push each other’s buttons. 

At first it led to intense bouts of makeup sex, but that soon tapered off as the arguments between us stretched longer and longer. 

Why do relationships end? How could the love you felt once upon a time dissipate into nothing but angry words and hateful glances?

Maybe it's because people change over the years, their outlook shaped by the numerous life experiences that brushed past their shoulders. Or maybe it was because both parties got bored with each other as they got older. 

Time was clearly taking its toll on the both of us. Sonny was still boyishly handsome, my heart still aches when I see his profile. But the silver has grown from streaks to colouring the full sweep of his hair, the sunnyness of his smile losing some of its brilliance. 

As for me, I gradually traded in some splashes of colour for something more sombre, a trade which I thought - mistakenly as it turned out - that I needed to make in return for permission to grow older.

Or maybe, things just…end. 

Like how it did with us. When we broke up, it wasn't during an argument, or that we had done anything to wrong the other. 

We had been getting ready for bed, when Sonny said to me that it was time for both of us to move on. His voice was steady and devoid of emotion, and the way he said it was as if the end of our relationship was simply inevitable. 

I could have reached for the letter, I could have pulled it out, and everything would have gone away. I had done it a couple of times during our relationship, when arguments got too heated, or tempers ran too high. 

But instead, I stilled my hand. I wasn't even fighting an overwhelming urge to do so, knowing that our relationship had run its course. 

Sometimes no matter how hard you tried to cup your hands, you couldn't stop the water from spilling out. 

“It's probably a good idea, before we hurt each other further. And destroy our working relationship. The squad does not need to be subject to any childish rants about our relationship changing,” I heard myself reply, even as my own voice sounded strange to my ears. 

I felt the bed shift as Sonny moved closer to hug me from behind. He slowly kissed my bare shoulders as he tugged at my tank top. After that I turned so that our bare chests rubbed against each other, and I pulled him down on top of me as he arranged our bodies to fit. 

I found it amazing that it was actually possible to go months without really talking to Carisi, even though we were together for long periods of time. We simply avoided each other and went our separate ways when the working day was over. 

What was harder to avoid were the worried looks from the rest of the squad. Liv in particular seemed to walk on eggshells when she mentioned Sonny to me. But all breathed easier when it became clear that neither of us harboured any ill feelings towards the other. 

It soon didn’t matter anyway though. One case, and I left my 21 year-long career behind me, my record clean but my soul battered. 

Sonny had left me messages, asking if he could see me but I never answered. I didn’t want to see pity in his eyes, where once there had been love and adoration. 

Six months later, I met the woman who would become my wife. She was beautiful and kind, with glossy dark hair that fell to her waist in waves and a laugh that reminded me of Selma Hayak. 

Six months after that, I proposed to her over dinner, with an engagement ring that Rita helped me pick out. 

With her it just felt right. There were no games, just mutual love and affection, similar goals and an understanding of how our lives would work out. I couldn't stop myself from working, while she didn't want to make me the centre of her life. 

Our wedding was a simple affair at City Hall, and a dinner afterwards that my mother organised. But I was grateful when the squad unexpectedly showed up. 

A surprise, Mami had said. 

Carisi came with his girlfriend, who he had started dating a few months before I proposed to my wife. Although he didn't tell me personally, he had told Liv who saw it fit to share with me that this relationship was serious. 

True enough, Sonny’s smile was genuine as he wished my wife and I well. It didn't falter when he told my wife that he and his girlfriend had picked out our wedding present together. 

Life was back to normal. Life was good, and I was happy. 

My marriage lasted two years, one year shorter than my relationship with Carisi. This time, the end was during an argument. She could stand me not being the centre of her universe, but she couldn't stand not being the centre of mine. 

I did wonder whether I should have fought harder to make it work. But by that time, I was just so tired that I didn't have it in me to fight back. Two failed relationships and a career in flames can take its toll on you until you simply don’t have the back to carry the burden anymore. 

Hence why somewhere around the beginning of 2021, I found myself divorced and single once more. My spiral downwards was spectacularly cliché to say the least. Every time I took a drink, I always wondered how much I could take before alcohol poisoning would kick in. 

Yes, even Rafael Barba could be self-destructive, who knew?

One night I came perilously close, drinking enough whisky by myself in my usual bar to render my world hazy. The bartender couldn’t even cut me off because it was my bottle, the one I kept there so I wouldn’t have to drink cheap shit. 

It was amazing how much better the world looked through an amber filter. 

I was mildly flirting with a handsome young thing sitting at the end of the bar when I felt a hand on my shoulder. 

It was Sonny, his face black as thunder as he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the bathroom.

“Fuck Barba, what the hell?” he cursed as he grabbed a towel from the terry pyramid on the counter and ran it under the tap. He twisted the cap off a bottle of water and forced it down my throat, causing me to cough, clearing both my airway and my head. 

“Why do you care?” I slurred. See Sonny, I can ask stupid questions as well. 

His eyes narrowed as he pressed the hot towel into my hand, ready to knock me on my ass for asking. 

“Why wouldn't I care Rafael?” He said through clenched teeth. “Just because we aren’t dating anymore, why wouldn't I care?”

“Because…because….”

I never got a chance to answer though, interrupted as I was by the toilet door swinging partly open. There, staring through the gap was Carisi’s girlfriend, her eyes as wide as dinner saucers. 

He turned and nodded curtly at her, before turning back to me. 

“I gotta go,” he said brusquely before standing up. He turned to walk away but paused mid-step, his back rigid as a war seemed to rage within him. 

“Go back to being the old Rafael… _please_ ,” he finally said, his voice breaking slightly on the last word. Or it could have simply been my imagination, it must have been. 

Regardless, it was that little altercation with Carisi that managed to shake me out of my stupor. I didn't know how he did, how he still managed to affect me in ways that I never realised he could. 

Perhaps it was also common sense. I was too old, too established to have this be the last word on me. I was doing fine before my marriage imploded, and refused to let it be my crutch anymore.

That and the look that Caris gave me that night. In addition, the rest of my circle had come to me in stages to tell me to shape up. Liv in a way that was comforting, my mother in a way that was tinged with concern and Rita in a way that was basically a veiled threat. 

Carisi could never keep his mouth shut. 

But it worked, and soon everything was back to the way it should have been. I found joy in my work again, I found happiness in helping people again. I remembered how it was like to laugh and smile without wondering when it was all going to end.

It could have kept going that way, with me living my life the way I had always intended. 

I could have been content. 

However, life as always can throw you a curveball. 

I got a letter today, Jan 5, 2022.

The date on the piece of paper was Dec 31, 2015. Inside were only four words.

_Can we try again?_

The letter wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be. I knew whom it was from. 

December 2015, we must have been just a few months into our relationship. This time, I didn't have to search far into my memories to know what could have driven Sonny to write another letter. 

I had commented to him once that life was so fleeting, so we should enjoy it while we could. Sonny had frowned and shook his head, countering that he had never been so certain of how he had felt for me, and that it had been the only thing in his life that had been so concrete. 

“So what I feel now, must be real. It must mean something permanent,” he had said. 

However, it meant opening a set of doors that I thought had closed long ago. But another part of me knew that it was now my turn to write him a letter.

But try as I might, I couldn't not find the right words to put on paper. Everything I wrote down seemed so hollow, causing me to cross out line after line as the crumpled mountain in my bin grew. 

How could I tell him what I felt when I myself was unsure. How what I wanted was not our relationship from before, because we were not the same people. All I could ever hope for was a reconstruction of what we were before, because even earlier on, the love we felt had always been an approximation. Feelings we could never really describe or pin down. 

I don't know how long I sat there in my chair, my pen between my fingers, a sheet of clean paper before me. But when I finally shook off my reverie, night had already fallen and the room was dark save for the incandescent yellow of the streetlights. 

So I flicked on my table lamp, drew my notepad towards me and wrote three words. Just three, but they were the only words that were in my mind at the time. 

I folded the paper and tucked it into an envelope. Stupidly I wrote his address on the front, even though I knew I was going to deliver it by hand. 

When I finally got to his apartment, I stood for a good ten minutes in front of his door before finally knocking. It was only when I heard footsteps inside the apartment did I slide the letter under the door. 

I fought the urge to press my ear to the wood as I tried to picture what was happening on the other side. I could just about make out the slight crinkle of an envelope flap being opened, and the paper being pulled out. 

After a few long moments I stood there, only taking a step back when the door started to open. I don't know why I found it so hard to look up, scared maybe of what I would see, or what I wouldn't see. 

Yet when he didn't say anything, I had no choice but to lift my head. 

And there, across his face was that beaming smile. 

It was all the answer I needed as I smiled back. 

I knew my letter was much shorter than his, but then I had always been a man of few words. I’m sure he understood that, nobody else knew me inside and out like he did. Knew every chink my armour, and knew every strength that lay beneath. 

And I knew his, even when I had been too blind to realise it. 

I guess, in the end, three words were really all I needed. 

_Sure, always, forever._

***

**The End**

***

**Author's Note:**

> Songs used in this fic: 
> 
> i. **I Wish You Were Mine** ~ **Loving Caliber feat. Mia Niles** (from the album **Circles** )


End file.
